How to Honeymoon Alone

“It’s okay. We all have our flaws.”

“I’m pretty sure you have none,” he says. “Well, except that you probably like glitter far too much. Maybe you’re too-trusting, too. And too talkative.”

I open my mouth in outrage. The too-trusting one had hit a nerve. “You tell me I don’t have any flaws and then come up with three off the top of your head?”

Phillip reaches for one of his drinks. “Two of those are arguably virtues. You know, like how people in job interviews say they’re workaholics?”

“I bet that’s how you got your current job.”

“You think I’m a workaholic?”

“Let’s just say I’m surprised you haven’t checked your emails in the last five minutes.”

His mouth tips into a smile. “I’m pleasantly distracted.”

Oh. I take a long sip of my planter’s punch to avoid answering, only to get spice right up my nose. I burst out coughing. Across the table, Phillip pushes a glass of water my way.

“Lovely,” I wheeze. “Now the rum is trying to kill me.”

“I think that’s alcohol’s game in general,” he says. “Maybe that’s why we all drink it. It’s poison, and we all know it, and yet, most of us win the bouts.”

I stare at him.

“What?” he says.

“That was rather profound.”

He snorts. “It was not. I’ve had just as much to drink as you, even if I’m handling it slightly better.”

I cross my legs. It hurts, my thighs burned to crisps. But it’s easy to ignore the ache when there’s someone so fascinating in front of me. There are so many things I haven’t been able to ask, yet. Things you don’t really ask a new acquaintance, at least not one as ornery as him. But being in this beautiful place and drinking all this rum has made the questions feel possible.

“So why were you so annoyed earlier? It can’t just have been us being a bit late.”

He taps his fingers against his glass. “No,” he finally says. “I got a phone call right before, and it didn’t exactly go great.”

“Ah. Did you find out one of your clients is going to prison?”

The gaze he levels on mine is dry. “I’m a far better attorney than that.”

“Also, you don’t really work on criminal cases.”

“Well, that, too,” he says. “But mostly, the I’m-great part.”

“So what was the call about, then?” I ask.

He twists the glass in his grip. One-quarter rotation, and then another. “Your curiosity is bottomless.”

I give him an apologetic smile. “Yes. There are a ton of things we don’t know about one another.”

“Most things, yes. It’s a natural consequence of just having met.”

I look down at my drink. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sings. Despite being in the shade, I can feel the warmth of the sun on my bare arm. “Was it your ex?”

“No,” he says. “It was my sister. She couldn’t resist saying ‘I told you so.'”

“Oh. About the non-wedding?”

His mouth curves into a smile that’s only a little amused. “Yes, and about my ex in general.”

“God, I can see how that might put a damper on your mood.”

He shrugs, his voice dry. “Maybe, but I wasn’t angry at her. She was right.”

Something dawns on me.

“You were angry at yourself,” I say slowly, “for not seeing what she saw?”

He looks down at his drink before looking up at me, his eyes guarded. But then he nods. “You’re good at reading people, Eden.”

“You’re an interesting person to read.”

He chuckles. “God help me, then.”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

That makes me laugh, too. I take a sip of my planter’s punch and relax back in my chair. The air between us feels calm and unbothered. Most of all, it’s easy. “Are you buying a bottle or two of rum to bring back with you?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Phillip says. “Are you?”

“Yes. I have to give one to my parents and one to my best friend Becky, even though she’s pregnant. She’ll have to wait like a year until she can taste it,” I say. A dark thought strikes me, and I smile. “Maybe I should get one for my ex, too.”

Across the table, Phillip’s hand pauses in midair. His eyebrows pull down low over his eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Probably not. But it’s a fun idea. Like, ‘look what you missed out on, you idiot.’ Maybe with a printed picture of me in a bikini.” I put a hand over my face. “God, I’d never in a million years do that.”

His voice sounds amused. “But it would feel good, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. Probably even better if I keyed his car while I was at it.”

Phillip’s laughter is short, but it’s there. Dark and delicious. “I’m imagining the worst now if he’s gotten someone like you to consider violence. What did he do?”

I rest my head against the back of the chair and look up at the nearby house. It’s easier to tell the story if I’m looking at interlocking bricks and not at the man in front of me.

“It’s embarrassingly cliché, really. He said he worked a lot with a corporate branch in a city a few hours away, and it required a lot of late nights and the occasional weekend trip. Funny, how most of those trips lined up perfectly with my best friend Cindy’s out-of-state visits to her parents.”

“Damn,” he says. His voice is not amused now.

“Yeah. She was supposed to be my maid of honor. Becky declined because she is pregnant… we joked that she was my lieutenant and Cindy was my general.” I look over at Phillip. He’s silent, watching me. Listening.

The rum makes it easy to talk.